Pride
by Ash10
Summary: After the worst week of a bad drive, Gil Favor is in a mess. Pete Nolan quit and the new scout is woefully incompetent. Will pride stand in the way of Favor's getting Nolan back?


PRIDE  
  
Seems to me things had never gone so wrong on a drive as they have this past week; nothing but problems - with the weather, with the cattle, with the men. I'm walking a fine line and well I know it. If I fall there's really no one to blame but myself. I'm Gil Favor, trail boss.  
-----  
"Where the hell's Pete? He shoulda been back long before now!" Gil Favor slapped his battered Stetson against his thigh, not once but again and again. "I've got better things to worry over!"  
  
Mushy handed the boss a cup of hot coffee. "Like what, Mr. Favor?" He asked innocently.  
  
Favor held his anger in check though his face reddened slightly and he raised his eyes skyward, silently counting to ten. He only managed five. "Like where we're gonna bed the herd down tonight! Like where we're gonna replenish supplies! Like if it's gonna rain for three more straight days and nights.do you get the picture, Mushy? Did I paint it clear enough?"  
  
"Oh yes sir, Mr. Favor. I understand. Better things to worry about than where Mr. Nolan is. I understand." Mushy grinned and turned away, walking several paces before suddenly coming back  
  
"Something you didn't quite understand, Mushy?" Gil asked, but the young man shook his head.  
  
"Oh no Mr. Favor. I just remembered something Mr. Wishbone said I should tell you." A Cheshire cat grin spread across Mushy's face.  
  
Favor held his temper - barely. "What did Wish want you to tell me?" he asked, keeping his voice low so not to frighten the knowledge right out of Mushy's head.  
  
"He said that I should tell you about Mr. Nolan."  
  
"Tell me what about Mr. Nolan?" Gil urged, the vein in his temple throbbing visibly as his blood pressure rose.  
  
"Mr. Nolan got the shotgun from Mr. Wishbone early this morning before he left.said he wanted to see about scaring up something.something we could eat besides beef. Said the men might feel better about everything if they didn't have to put up with the same old food every meal. He said."  
  
Favor stopped Mushy with a raised hand. "Enough! Did Mr. Nolan tell Mr. Wishbone when he thought he might return from this quest?"  
  
Mushy gave the sudden impression of being deep into thought, lips pursed, brow furrowed. "Quest? He didn't say nothin' about a quest.but he said he'd be back in time for dinner." With a quick jerk of the head, like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence, Mushy turned away from Favor and got back to work.  
  
Favor finished off the now cool coffee. "Like pulling teeth," he muttered.  
  
"What's like pulling teeth, Boss?" Rowdy walked over, helping himself to a cup of the strong, black brew.  
  
"Never mind, Rowdy. What are you doing back here? I thought I sent you out to check on Scarlet. "  
  
"Already did.nothin' wrong with Joe that a good night's sleep wouldn't cure. I told him to come on in early. He's beat, Boss. They're all beat. It's the rain. A man can't sleep layin' in the muck, his blanket wet, clothes, too without feelin' the miseries the next day - 'specially the older fellas. Joe says every bone he ever broke aches like the devil. He."  
  
"I get the point. The men are tired. The men are bored with their food. I get it, Rowdy, but you shouldn't have sent Scarlet in. The others'll see him getting special treatment and they'll all want to quit early. Damn it, Rowdy.we've got to move this herd! We barely made three miles yesterday!" Favor rubbed the back of his neck where a deep ache had settled down, for good, it seemed. A hot bath would feel great - a hot bath and a hot toddy and the pains and irritability would vanish.if only. He looked Rowdy in the eye, full on so there'd be no question. "You sent Scarlet in. You ride swing."  
  
Rowdy Yates looked less than pleased and for a very brief moment, Gil believed his ramrod just might quit on him - again. He didn't, perhaps preferring retreat as the better part of valor. Stepping up into the saddle, Rowdy kicked the bay into a lope and passed Pete without acknowledging Nolan's smile or cheery "hello."  
  
Nolan got the feeling all was not right in camp and he was correct, but his high spirits could not be deflated by such a small thing as a moody ramrod or an irritable Boss. After all, neither was a novelty.  
  
Swinging easily out of the saddle, Nolan turned to remove at least a dozen sage hens which dangled from his pommel by cords tied around their feet. Several more birds, plump and soon to be tasty, were extricated from the saddlebags. Facing Gil Favor, Pete Nolan beamed in triumph.  
  
"No beef for dinner tonight, Boss! What do ya think of 'em? Took me less than an hour to bag all fifteen! Where's Wishbone? I can't wait till he sees 'em! Heck, they're so fat even Mushy couldn't dry 'em out!"  
  
"It took less than an hour to shoot 'em so why are you three hours late?"  
  
Favor's barked question took some of the wind from Pete's sails. Suddenly he felt like the little kid about to take a shellacking for doing what he thought was a good deed - enough to put the grown man on the defensive. The smile disappeared and in its place formed an angry scowl, though to be fair Pete was more hurt than mad.  
  
"I had to find 'em before I could shoot 'em," Pete offered. "I got back soon as I could."  
  
"While you were out hunting on this fine summer day, did you happen to take time to do your real work? Did you find a place to bed down the herd tonight and tomorrow night?"  
  
"I did. Rode out twenty miles. Found good grass and water ahead all the way." Pete stopped for a moment, thinking about what he wanted to say, knowing to tread softly what with the boss under so much strain as of late. "Mr. Favor, I figured the men could use a break from beef day in and day out. I figured it might help with morale since everybody's on edge lately."  
  
"You figured! Rowdy figured! Hell, even Mushy figured! Well you don't do the figuring around here! I do! I'm boss and I issue the orders which I want followed to the letter! I wanted you back here three hours ago and you're late! Did you stop to think that this is Comanche country and I might've figured you to be in trouble? I might've sent somebody out lookin' for you? Somebody I couldn't spare?"  
  
Favor was right in Nolan's face, only inches separated them. Out boiled all of Gil's frustration and anger. He berated Pete, Rowdy, Scarlet and most of the drovers by name, but it all came back down onto Nolan and how Gil depended on the scout, counted on him for his maturity and knowledge. How he never expected Pete to go off on a lark and shirk his responsibilities. It went on and on until Nolan shrank beneath the verbal assault, dropping the birds one by one to the ground. But finally, he'd had enough. Pete Nolan exploded.  
  
"I quit! Find yourself another scout and good luck to 'im!" Pete pulled his hat down low over his eyes, stalked over to the chuck wagon where Mushy stood, silent and staring with mouth ajar, grabbed a handful of dried beef from a sack, walked back to his horse, stowed the food, swung up into the saddle and turned the horse west. "This is my animal and I've got all that's mine."  
  
Jerking the shotgun from the rifle scabbard he tossed it to Favor. "I'll send an address when I get one sos you can mail my pay." Putting spurs to hide, Pete Nolan took off at a gallop, quickly disappearing over a low rise and leaving Gil Favor more than a bit surprised. Seemed even the usually steady Nolan had a breaking point.  
  
Wishbone sauntered up, satisfied grin on his brushy face, unaware of the scene that had taken place just moments earlier. From one hand dangled freshly dug wild onions; in the other bloomed a bouquet of what appeared to be miniature daisies. "Well just lookit here now! That Pete Nolan! Well just look at those fine plump birds!" Wishbone's grin spread from ear to ear. He could almost smell the heavenly scent of sage hens roasting over a slow fire, basted in their own juice, skin crackling and brown. So intent was he on the birds, he overlooked the all-encompassing silence within the camp.  
  
"So where is the man of the hour anyway? Pete? Pete Nolan? No use you hidin' out. You mighta shot 'em, but you can do your share of pluckin'!" Stashing the onions in the wagon and laying the chamomile out on the shelf to dry, Wishbone turned around to find the boss standing at his shoulder. A black thundercloud could not have looked more ominous.  
  
"He up and quit. Pete's gone and that's that," Favor stated.  
  
"Gone? What'd you say to him, Boss?" Before the words were completely out of his mouth, Wishbone realized his mistake. It was too late to take them back and to say he was sorry he'd said them in the first place would've been a lie - so Wish said nothing, just waited for the axe to fall, but it didn't. For a moment Mr. Favor stood silent and morose and then he just walked away. For some reason that lack of an emotional outburst scared Wishbone - it was so uncharacteristic. Wish trailed a few yards behind Favor until they were well out of camp. Walking over, he tapped Favor on the shoulder. "Uh, Boss?"  
  
Slowly the tall man turned around, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked haggard, worn out. "What is it, Wishbone?" he asked in a voice roughened by fatigue and constant worry. "What is it?"  
  
"You shouldn't oughta keep your emotions inside. It ain't good for a man - 'specially a man who ain't used to doing it. It could cause fits or somethin'."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, Wishbone..Thanks for your concern, but I'm alright. I'm fine." Favor turned back around, gazing out over the low rolling hills and milling cattle. "I'm gonna need a new scout. Guess it'll be Tinker. When I hired him on he told me how he knew this country like the back of his hand. Now he'll get the chance to prove it."  
  
"Tinker.uh, Boss, I don't know about him. Maybe you never heard the talk around the campfire, but.."  
  
Favor pivoted, his gaze skewering Wishbone into silence. "Tell Tinker I want to see him. Now, Wishbone."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Favor.you're the boss."  
  
"Glad somebody thinks so," Gil murmured.  
  
Jett Tinker proved to be everything Pete Nolan was not - inept, a windbag, a poor tracker and a liar without peer. When Favor questioned him about the drive's lack of anything resembling forward momentum, Tinker finally came clean, squirming, blushing, sweating and hat in hand.  
  
"I wanted Nolan's job. I'da said anything to get it, Mr. Favor. Twenty extra dollars a month.well, that's a whole lotta money. I didn't mean no harm, Boss. Heck, I figured any man could point the way north. I was wrong, Boss. I'd be appreciatin' it if you'd gimme my old job back! I'd ride drag all the way to Sedalia!" he whined.  
  
Gil Favor, disgusted as he was with Tinker, knew he couldn't afford to lose another man. "You WILL ride drag all the way to Sedalia," he affirmed.  
  
Smiling, actually bowing in short little jerky movements from the waist, Jett Tinker, wiping sweat from his face onto a dirty bandana, returned to the herd, muttering all the way. "Thanks, Boss. Thanks, Boss.you won't regret it! Thanks.."  
-----  
"Rowdy, you said there's a town not ten miles due west, right?" Favor finished shaving while Yates finished breakfast.  
  
"That's right, Boss. Might be nearer fifteen, but you should be able to get supplies there.and Mr. Favor?"  
  
"Go on, Rowdy," Gil swiped his dulling razor back and forth several lengths of the strop.  
  
"Pete's there.least I think he is. I remember him tellin' me he had a girl in Shinbone, 'course that was last year. She might be gone now, but.I thought you might want to."  
  
"Cut to the quick, Rowdy. You thought I'd wanta ask Pete to come back, is that it?" Favor continued to scrape stubborn whiskers.  
  
"No, that ain't it. I thought maybe you'd wanta take him his pay. Save havin' to mail it.. He was broke when he left, Boss. I know 'cause I cleaned him out in poker just the night before."  
  
"I'll think on it, Rowdy."  
  
When Gil drove the wagon into Shinbone it was with Pete's money in his pocket. The town wasn't much to look at, full of rough-looking characters of varied ethnic backgrounds, Indians, Mexicans and even some Chinese, but there was a largish mercantile and the owner was most interested in Favor's business.  
  
As in most rough towns saloons abounded. It took Gil the better part of the morning to check out each one, hoping Nolan was downstairs in the bar and not upstairs with his 'girl.' Like Rowdy, Pete enjoyed the ladies, but unlike the young ramrod, Nolan preferred monogamy - one girl per town.  
  
The seventh saloon proved lucky. Pete was indeed at the bar with a lady and he must've been broke because she was buying him a drink. Favor was impressed. Broke or not, Nolan was a survivor. Arm around the girl's slim waist, Pete was laughing at something she'd said. For a moment Gil was envious. He'd love to forget his problems, if only for a moment of laughter.  
  
Walking up to the bar he ordered a whiskey. At the sound of the familiar voice, Nolan turned. The laughter ceased which prompted the young lady to ask, "What's the matter, honey? There ain't gonna be no trouble, is there? We was havin' such a fine time!" She clutched at Pete's arm, her pretty, painted face in a pout.  
  
"No, no trouble, Darcy." Pete waited for Favor to say something. He hoped the words were the ones he needed to hear.  
  
"Rowdy said you might be here. I came in for supplies.thought you could use your pay." Favor reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the folded notes which he laid on the bar and slid over to Nolan.  
  
"Yeah, thanks. I can use it." Though the money was indeed important, it was not the reason he'd hoped Favor had made the trip. Sorry he'd quit, Pete wanted his job back, but pride kept him from admitting it to anyone other than himself. Now was his chance. This was the moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come. Taking the money, he slipped it into the pocket of his trousers. "Tell the boys I said hello."  
  
Pete turned his back to Favor and taking the girl by the arm led her over to the stairs. She snuggled against him and he lifted her up and into his arms. She laughed, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. He took the stairs two at a time and never looked back.  
  
Gil finished his drink alone. Things had not gone to his liking. He hoped Nolan would ask for his job back. It was up to Pete after all since he'd been the one to quit - whether or not prompted by Favor's own behavior. No, it had not gone well at all.  
  
Favor went over to the mercantile to check on the supplies. Loading was taking forever so Gil stood outside and lit a quirly, blowing imperfect smoke rings and just watching people and not really liking what he saw. One hour faded into the next and the pile of cigarette butts at his feet grew and Favor found himself watching the saloon where he'd left Nolan - hoping Pete would change his mind, swallow his pride and come out. Imagine his surprise when Nolan did exit the saloon, stumbling through the bat-wing doors. By the swaying tipsy motion of the lanky body it was easy to see that Pete was beyond drunk - he was Jim Quince-three-sheets-to-the-wind drunk. Favor made a move to walk over, to help, but stopped.  
  
Three men also exited the Yellow Rose, one throwing his arm around Nolan's shoulders. The way they were all laughing together gave the outward impression of friendship. Steering the drunken man into the closest alleyway the three, with Pete in tow, disappeared into shadows.  
  
Favor threw down the latest cigarette and bolted down the boardwalk, turning down the alley, shouting at the top of his lungs. He had yet to draw his gun.  
  
Pete, held up against the saloon wall by two of the men, was being viciously pummeled by the third even though a wad of bills was visible in the thug's back pocket, obviously Nolan's pay and what the men had been after. Being bullies they enjoyed thanking their victims by beating them half to death - also a warning not to go to whatever authorities existed in Shinbone.  
  
Favor's shouts routed the attackers without his having to wade into the fray. He wasn't surprised. Bullies were cowards. It went with the territory.  
  
Pete slumped to the ground, dazed and bloody and almost too drunk to notice, but he did recognize Favor as Gil helped him to his feet.  
  
"Hey, Boss.hey.what happened?" Pete swayed and bled and his knees buckled.  
  
Favor hefted him up over one shoulder. Laying the battered scout gently in the back of the supply wagon amid barrels of flour and bags of coffee and sugar, Gil went in search of Nolan's money.  
  
Knowing the thieves to be less than smart - they'd attempted to beat and rob a man in broad daylight after all, Favor figured them to be in a saloon spending the ill-gotten gains. Naturally he was correct. Not only were they in a saloon, they were in the saloon they'd followed Pete out of. Favor shook his head, continually amazed at the folly of men.  
  
This time he did draw his gun. "Put your hands on the bar," he ordered as he walked down to the end of the rough-hewn plank. "Slide that money down to me and it had all better be there."  
  
The bartender, smart enough to keep to his own affairs, backed away, hands raised.  
  
"What you think you're doin'? That's my money!" Favor recognized the speaker as the one who'd beaten the helpless Nolan. He itched to level the score for Pete, but kept his wits close about him.  
  
"That money belongs to the rangy cowboy you followed out of here not ten minutes ago." Favor motioned to the bartender. "Check those bills, the fives. One of 'em has a corner ripped off - bottom right."  
  
The bartender leafed through the greenbacks. Coming to the torn five, he showed it around to the cluster of curious onlookers, finally waving it beneath the noses of the three. "How'd you know, mister?" he asked Favor.  
  
"Before I paid that cowboy his wages I changed some bills at the bank across the street. I noticed one was torn. You got a sheriff in this town?" Though Favor asked, he was pretty sure of the answer.  
  
"No. Federal marshal comes around once a month, but he ain't due till next week." The bartender replaced the torn five among the stack and shoved it over to Favor.  
  
"Give the barkeep your guns," Gil watched, keeping the men covered as they did as ordered.  
  
"Don't give 'em back until the marshal shows up. Let him decide what to do with these men. But I expect these yahoos'll be long gone before then." Favor holstered his Colt just in time to block a blow from Pete's attacker. It was the move he'd hoped for and he was ready.  
  
The bully was no fighter, just a brawler and a poor one at that. Gil easily dispatched him with a solid uppercut and a left cross. The body hit the floor with a most satisfying thud. Gil picked the money up off the bar and shoved it into his breast pocket.  
  
The ride back to the herd was relatively quiet and uneventful what with Pete sleeping off his drunk, only moaning occasionally when movement caused pain in several badly bruised ribs. "Wish can look you over once we get to camp. Try not to move around too much till then," Favor cautioned.  
  
Nolan mumbled something from between split lips which sounded a lot like a string of curse words. Favor grinned. He'd gotten what he wanted and without a verbal apology. He hoped Pete wouldn't be too upset when he found himself back among the drovers and cattle, eating dust and breaking trail.  
  
What Gil Favor didn't know was that Pete's muttered words were not all curses. Sandwiched between the "damns" and "hells" was the garbled thanks of a cowboy too long out of his element.in his own words, of course. "I knew you'd want me back, Boss. I just knew it," he murmured, "Couldn't do without ole Pete.no siree. You're one smart fella, Boss.one smart fella."  
  
END 


End file.
